HE GODDESS OF LIBERTY 
IN WALL STREET 

(An Allegorical Satire) 

THE MODERN ARGONAUTS 

(A Plan, of Peace Preparedness) 

REDIVIVUS 

(Christ Again) 

HYMN TO LIBERTY 

AND OTHER POEMS 



By EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL 



Published by 

EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL 
SINGLE TAX REVIEW, 150 NASSAU ST., NEW YORK 

PRICE 50 CENTS 

Copyrighted 1916 by Edwards P. IngersoU 






TO THE READER 



At the suggestion of some of my friends I am making this 
collection of m}^ occasional efforts in verse, even including some of 
the juvenile period. It will be noticed that the later productions 
deal mainly with war and the economic-social problem. The writer 
is one of those who believe, not in art for art's sake, but in art for 
humanity's sake, hence he has felt more and more impelled to train 
his muse in the service of the down-trodden masses in the great 
struggle for emancipation now going on in the United States. How 
intimately this great social struggle is appealing to the creative mind 
in this country is well shown by the fact that quite recently during 
an evening visit the writer was in conversation with a historical 
painter and a sculptor both of whom were at work on subjects relating 
to the industrial struggle, the one nearest their hearts. So insistent 
is the voice of social justice becoming in our minds that it will not 
let us rest by day or night until the great cause is won. Hasten the 
day, led in by the great advance guard of prophets, poets, artists 
and thinkers who believe in art for humanity's sake! 

"All are needed by each one. 
Nothing is fair or good alone." 

EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL, 
Evangelist for Liberty, Free Land and Fraternity. 



INDEX 



The Goddess of Liberty in Wall Street 3 

Redivivus {Christ Again) 1-3 

The Modem Argonauts 18 

Pandora 20 

A Call to Peace. . 24 

Hesperia 22 

Love's Messengers 26 

The Sphinx 27 

To the New Year — 1916 28 

The Vernal Troth 29 

Europe's Messenger 30 

Invocation to the New Year 31 

The TreadmiU 31 

Easter Discord — 1915 32 

The Dying War God 32 

To the Old Year — 1914 33 

Parting 33 

Apple Mary 34 

The Song of the Billionaire 35 

"Now Abideth These Three" 36 

Anacreontic 36 

Out of Work 37 

Serenade ' 38 

Homing 38 

The Merry Month of May 39 

The Garden of My Heart 39 

To "Hinda" of Moore's Fire Worshippers 40 

Nocturne 40 

SONNETS 

The Ford Peace Ship 41 

To Keats 41 

To Hesperus 41 

The Sleeping Nun 42 

Mom 42 

Conceit 42 

JX-VEXILIA 

Ode to Greece 43 

Fickle Fortune 44 

On Keats' Burial Place 45 

Barcarolle 45 

The Dearest Memories 46 

The Boy Wanderer's Farewell to Home 47 

Respite 47 

Lullaby for Children 47 

The Wreath of Friendship 48 

Album Verses 48 

Wall Street in Folk Lore 48 

Hymn to Liberty .^ Cover Page 3 

©Ji.A4l8713 



THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY IX WALL STREET 

AN ALLEGORICAL SATIRE 



One day a lovely maiden 

Came strolling to The Street, 

Her breath was summer-laden, 

The daisies 'd kissed her feet. 

About her gracious presence 

Was balm of country air, 

Her brow was crowned with pleasance, 

Her glance was debonair. 

From her clear eyes the sunbeams 

Shone forth without disgxiise, 

Commingling with the day dreams 

In innocent surprise 

At fortunes "short and long" tolled 

From Babel towers of chance 

In Mammon's mighty stronghold, 

The seat of high finance; 

At Washington encrusted 

With money changer's grime, 

With silvery notes o'erdusted 

From Trinity's lorn chime. 

Her looks suspicion flouted, 

She held no secrets there. 

No human heart she doubted 

Nor thought of hidden snare. 

A wreath of fresh wild posies 

Adorned her rustic hair. 

Yet rarer were the roses 

Her damask cheeks did wear. 

II 

A noble line she boasted 

Of old colonial sires, 

W^ho stood like sentries, posted 

To guard the altar fires. 

That led the fathers, halted 



By fear, by baffling Fate, 

To liberty exalted 

When grew the greater state; 

That blazed o'er range and river, 

O'er moor and grange apart 

And burned for Freedom ever 

Within her vestal heart. 

There, deep-enshrined she cherished 

The martyrs to her cause. 

The steadfast souls who perished, 

Death-bound to tyrant laws. 

She dream.ed that God had christened 

America, the free. 

To astral spheres she listened, 

Chanting in harmony 

Of buoyant hopes undaunted. 

Of a fair land to be 

By no gaunt spectres haunted; 

United sea to sea 

In one vast soul revival 

Of labor and of love. 

Spared of all passions tribal 

And symboled by the dove. 

To Mammon's stealth in blindness 

It ne'er should bend the knee. 

Ruled by pure lovingkindness, 

The hearts innate decree, 

'Twould prosper, justly yielding 

Its friiits to husbandry. 

Its children's children shielding 

From want and misery. 

So gleamed the blissful vision 

Before her raptured eyes 

Of ripened fields Elysian, 

The reaper's Paradise. 

Unsnared by Love's emotion 

This maiden's ecstasy 

Breathed only pure devotion — 

Her name was Liberty. 

Ill 

Faultless in form and feature, 
Superb, surpassing fair. 
How came this peerless creature 
Within the dragon's lair? 



IV 

Heedless of lurking dangers, 
Untrained in Mammon's way, 
She sought the money-changers 
To hear what they would say 
About the Yellow Peril — 
The gold that holds in thrall 
The worlds' great marts till sterile 
It bleeds and leaves them all; 
Of lands all held by title 
From willing hands away, 
Rents racked without requital 
And raised from day to day; 
In court blind Justice mocking 
The poor with cruel spite 
And no rich sinner docking 
For might is what makes right 
While press and pulpit cover 
The truth with glossing art 
And draw with touches clever 
The villain in his part; 
The money lords all stripping 
The coat from labor's back. 
At its pale throat fast gripping 
Like wolves in hungry pack. 



These lords she would admonish 
With plain and strong appeal: — 
"Repent! (how 'twould astonish!) 
And learn the common weal." 
So through the grim dominion 
Where Mammon has his throne 
She spread the new opinion — 
We all our country own 
And not a few who manage 
By hook or crook of law 

To cram the whole appanage 
Down Wall vStreet's greedy maw. 

VI 

But when the noisy gamblers 

Beheld the queenly guest, 

Like rude and shabby shamblers 



t 



They bandied quip and jest. * 

'Tis known that the apt scholar 

In this great business street 

Rates only by the dollar 

All things or good or sweet. 

No lamb has ever wandered 

A down the crooked street 

But quick its fleece quite plunderea 

'Twas turned away to bleat. 

Whatever chance has brought them 

On veering winds of time 

With booty rich has fraught them, 

Reeking with labor's grime. 

And though this female starlet 

Would any heart disarm, 

They'll quote her at the market 

And estimate her charm. 

This maid so kind and winning. 

Fired with the patriot's flame, 

Would shield them in their sinning. 

How couid she know "the game"? 

Her name would bravely nerve them 

For a Napoleon's part, 

Her innocence would serve them. 

They'd coach the bold upstart. 

In plots and planks instructed, 

A diplomatic don 
From mystic dreams abducted. 
She'd make a perfect "con." 
For she would be so trusting! 

Respectability 
Could screen its money-lusting 
Behind fair Liberty. 
Thus secretly they plotted 
This virgin heart and true. 
Guileless, by them besotted 
Should Greed vile service do. 

VII 

Her pledge had ne'er been broken 
The peoples' cause to fend, 
Her name oft, proudly spoken, 
Had made the tyrant bend. 
When her ideals she'd mention 
Then inwardly they laughed — 



"(Fourth of July pretension — )" 
And rallied round the graft. 
With all the arts and graces 
Their hollow hearts contain 
They smugged their foxy faces 
Nor spoke a word of gain. 
They vowed like fawning actors 
They loved their country well, 
Were pubUc benefactors, — 
Wall paper they did sell 
To widows and to orphans 
To decorate their rooms. 
And raised enormous war funds 
To help the Red Cross booms. 
As vested rights' testators 
They dallied with the press. 
With courts and legislators, 
With statesmen in distress. 
They fostered tariff debates 
On cotton, oil and steel. 
They bagged the shifty rebates 
Or — closed a little deal. 

VIII 

By Jesuitic pleading 

They tricked the pretty maid 

To follow their false leading 

And hold the hand they played. 

She did not long resist them 

For Liberty, you know. 

Thought she could safely list them 

"Pro bono pubHco." 
vSo she was soon entrusted 
With missions far and wide, 
Big business she adjusted 
And swelled the bankers' pride. 
And everyone asserted, 
Persuaded by her art, 
The Street had been converted 
To take the peoples' part. 
She turned the heads of lawyers, 
Fogged the judicial mind, 
In legislative foyers 
The peoples' cause declined. 
Exempt from laws of libel 



The editors wrote rot, 
And the whole blessed Bible 
The ministers forgot. 
"She did but do the bidding 
Of men of high degree, 
Assured they were us ridding 
Of foes of property. 

IX 

Rome's proud patricians granted 

The people should be fed 

But foimd the people wanted 

The circus and the bread. 

And of the twain the bleeding 

That drenched the circus ground 

Proved mightier than the feeding 

To draw the mob around. 

Said Wall Street lords, conniving :- 

"We must have pageantry. 

A state so rich and thriving 

Should build a great navy 

To dance in ports and waters 

Of home and foreign shores 

For marriageable daughters 

The officer adores. 

And then should foreign robbers 

Presume to have a say 

And send their husky mobbers 

To take our graft away. 

We'll train our guns upon them 

And pipe all hands to sea, 

By aeros we'll drop on them 

x\nd save our property. 

And we will call a million 

Of men with bands galore 

To cost each year a billion, 

(And every year cost more), 

To march with banners flying 

All up and down the land 

And show how grand is dying 

For Wall Street's patriot banc], 

We'll furnish Death munitions 

As all big bankers do, 

Uphold The Street's traditions 

And loan the money too. 



Our names will shine in story 
As winners of the war, 
We'll wear the gold and glory 
And never wear a scar." 

X 

Through all this double dealing, 
This diabolic game, 
The systematic stealing 
Was going on the same. 
The worker's wealth was plundered, 
Their lives were cheaply held. 
Their children sadly wondered 
And against God rebelled. 
The octopus keeps draining 
The life from labor's veins. 
Great Croesus surely gaining 
What feeble strength remains. 

XI 

Then burst a mad inflation 
And mid the deafning din 
They bought and sold the nation 
(The people were "thrown in"). 
No shallow-pated praters 
Of patriotic punk, 
No callow second-raters 
At doling out the bunk, 
The truth they all perverted 
To mask their nimble schemes. 
Not one whit disconcerted 
They played the two extremes — 
Philanthropists and patriots, 
Beloved of their kind 
But boosted up the freight rates 
Beneath the crafty blind. 

XII 

Then Liberty 'gan waken , 

To see her sorry plight. 

The role she'd undertaken — 

Corrupter of the Right. 

Incensed, near — crazed with anguish, 

She first did penance do 



(The people's cause did languish, 
Her name was tarnished too.) 
Then on the rascal traitors 
She turned her righteous wrath, 
The wreckers, thieves, rebaters 
That block the nation's path: — 
"Impious, mischievous meddlers 
With God's prime, fixed decrees, 
Base, pettifogging peddlers 
Of legal sophistries. 
The Earth is equal hostess 
To man's vast family, 
No law but human justice 
Can set the people free. 
Vengeance shall still be rising 
To desecrate your tombs. 
Your sons, their gold disguising, 
Shall yet meet direful dooms." 
"Of all the slimy dastards 
That dodge the hangman's rope 
That strain of Freedom's bastards 
Who rob the race of hope. 
Deserve the cat-o-nine-tails 
Through all eternity, 
While Justice with her fine scales 
Weighs out the Equity. 
Dull clods do beat within ye. 
Not human hearts that feel; 
Greed's gilded lures e'er win ye 
To kill the Great Ideal." 

XIII 

With these bold words recanting 
She faced the threat'ning throng, 
A goddess pure, enchanting. 
Nobler from sense of wrong. 
First curses low they muttered. 
Surcharged with vengeful harm 
Then louder cries they uttered. 
Seized her rebellious form. 
And, her fond dreams deriding 
They mauled her round the block, 
"Hail! demagogue in hiding!" 
They tore her simple frock. 
"She'll be a goddess nevermore. 
She's just a bit o'skirt. 

10 



We've pulled her down forevermore 

And dragged her in the dirt. 

The saucy miss was well paid 

For what she did for us. 

She's just a 'buy and sell' trade, 

And — now this nasty fuss. 

Be sure there is no holding 

A woman to her way, 

It ends in shrewish scolding, 

'The game' she will not play. 

A suffragette 's quite pesky 

To suit in business deals; 

Her temper 's more than risky, 

A tantrum she conceals." 

XIV 

From bruising straight to buying 
They sauntered off in scorn. 

Leaving the poor maid lying 
Sore-wounded and forlorn. 

XV 

But scarce they 'd turned that scornful look 

When lo! a spectre strange! 
The Street, filled with her presence, shook 

And panic seized "The Change." 

Transfigured all the maid arose, 

Resplendent, strong and brave. 

Towering above her shrinking foes 
Like giant o'er a slave. 

Keen flashed the trenchant, flaming sword 

Within her lifted hand, 
With scorching eye and withering word 

She scourged the miscreant band: — 

"Ye sordid horde of plundering knaves, 

In vain ye'll mercy plead. 
Man, woman, child ye make your slaves 

To glut your sateless greed. 

"The piteous moans of starving poor, 

The children's wails, denied, 
Who dull mechanic tasks endure. 

Are incense to your pride. 

11 



"A Babel sound of misery 

Assails my wearied ears, 
Gaunt hunger in the streets I see, 

I sense the falling tears. 

"The land, the law, the school, the creed, 

The hut bows to them all. 
They are but tools of master Greed 

To build your lordly hall. 

"But. they that sow shall also reap. 

The master builder Time 
Shall yet the faith of ages keep 

And build the dream sublime. 

"The state secure, whose perfect base 

Is justice, man to man. 
For Liberty must God embrace. 

Not Life's ephemera;! span. 

"The light that leads the world alway 
Springs from my star-lit crown, 

My eyes are daggers in the fray, 
My heart Greed cannot own. 

"I stand before the castle Might, 

Held by the wastrel Sin, 
Come join me, rout the hosts of night 

And bring the new day in. 

" 'Tis written in the book of Fate 
A thousand years of peace 

Shall bless the reincarnate state, 
If Mammon-worship cease. 

"To every clime and subject isle ' 

Resounds my trumpet call, 

Let not the tempter's voice beguile, 
Humanity needs all. 

"I summon to the toilers' strife. 

Oh! let the clarions roll! 
For Liberty has come to life 

And man shall find his soul. 



12 



R E D I V I V U S 
{Christ Again) 

Two thousand years the church has stood 

And waited for the Lord, 
Two thousand years of widowhood 

In sombre weeds abhorred. 

Eyes fixed upon the vacant sky 

With wide expectant gaze, 
She counts her ceaseless rosary 

And for the coming prays. 

While roundabout the multitude. 

On ritual manna fed, 
On pious psalm and platitude, 

Still cries for daily bread. 

A stone ye give in lieu of bread! 

A serpent's poisoned sting 
The hand conceals ye stretch to aid 

In your vain ministering! 

The fruitful earth, God's good green earth, 

Ye filch for a favored few, 
A favored few of creed and birth. 

By sword, by rack and screw. 

While prelate, ruler, lord and squire 
Wax fat and sleek and bland, 

Want shrinks beside the cottage fire 
And Woe stalks through the land. 

Puffed up with purse and royal pride, 

No deeds of mercy done, 
How could ye find a place beside 

The Meek and Lowly One? 

For round and round the weary world 

The blood -red rivers run. 
And shafts of Hate are fiercely hurled 

From rise to set of sun, 

And he who preacheth Christ's pure creed. 

Purged of all worldly dross, 
To him ye give as lawful meed 

The garret or the cross. 



13 



Oh, eyes that see not, neither seek!- 

O, ears that will not hear! 
O, tongues too dumb His name to speak! 

O, Hearts that cringe and fear! 

His is the blood ye shed in wrath, 
Him your blind greed enthrals, 

It is the Christ your guile betray'th, 
On Him your vengeance falls. 

In all who speed the rolling sphere 

Along the groove of Time, 
Making the God-note ring out clear 

In th' universal chime; 

In those who sternly point the way 
Mid the brute clash of Wrong, 

And lead a baffled world, astray, 
To the grand heights of Song, 

Where bursts the vision of the Land 

Of Promise on the ken, 
The sorrowless new Eden, and 

The Paradise of men: — 

He lives to share the low estate 

And shape the noble dream. 
To help us choose the truly great 

And spurn the things that seem. 

Pent up in dank and dismal cell, 
With scornful thrust laid low 

When slaves in desperate deed rebel 
The tyrant to o'erthrow; 

In dock, on rack, on scaffold tall, 

Tortured and maimed and slain; 

Heard when the ax in frightful fall, 
Baptized with bloody stain; — 

Mocked, scourged, despised, in clanking chain, 
Felled by the despot's blow: — 

Oft hath He come — He comes again! 
Ye knew him not, nor know. 



14 



The marvelous pattern once begun 

Doth shuttle ever rest? 
Man never is (the rede doth run) 

But always to be blest. 

Alas! that leaf of Bible lore 

Should be so soon forgot, 
He came unto his own once more, 

His own received Him not. 

The bearer of His word why shun 

Like a forbidden guest? 
Why look ye for the rising sun 

With faces toward the West? 

Among the sons of men, I ween, 
The laureled and the great. 

The priceless man, hath ever been 
The man who risks his fate; 

Who takes our hoard, our mental store 
Of dogmas we hold dear, 

And brushing off the dusty lore. 
The simple truth makes clear, 



And they who see the growing plan. 
Shall they stand idly by 

Or peer out through the mist to scan 
Our human destiny? 

What of the night, O Watchman, tell, 
What see'st thou in the gloom? 

Methinks I hear the distant bell 
Warn mariners of doom. 

Breakers ahead! the rock-bound shore! 

The Watchm.an's startled cry 
Rings out above the mounting roar 

Of waters to the sky. 

Where is the Captain in the hour 
Of danger and of dread? 

He Hes below where cravens cower, 
Heedless of rocks ahead. 



15 



Shall man thus weakly bend to fate? 

Where's the courageous soul 
Will grasp the helm of Church and State 

Ere shipwreck take its toll, 

And steering by the eternal star 

As only great faith can, 
Will bring us safe within the bar 

To the final port of man? 

O, hear ye not that mighty surge — 
The heartbeat of the world — 

Outswelling, sounding doom and dirge 
Of every flag unfurled. 

When common brotherhood of man 
Shall banish class and creed 

In worldwide fellowship, and ban 
This cruel reign of greed? 



Come unto Me, the Master said. 

All ye that labor long. 
Come learn of Me and bravely tread 

The pathway of the strong. 

And fear not in the fateful day 
When Me ye must defend, 

For with you I will be alway, 
Alway unto the end. 

The golden face of mellow truth 

Shines through the ripening years, 

We know in age what once in youth 
We hoped or dreamed in tears. 

And this I know from out my heart, 
When soul leaps to ascend 

He is the lofty counterpart, 

The guide, the type, the friend. 



Then stir the slothful, cheer the faint, 

Unite, revolt, decry 
The traffickers who foully taint 

The truth and gild the lie. 



16 



Firm in the faith that looks through death 

The purpose high fulfill, 
The power that gives the statue breath 

Is man's creative will. 

For judgment we are brought to bar, 

Ourselves we do accuse; 
If chance hath mastered us thus far 

The way we now must choose. 

But not to glory, honor, fame, 

The love that self denies 
Leads yet to Calvary — the same 

Sad path of sacrifice 

He trod two thousand years ago, 

Beset with cold and heat. 
With thorns, with steeps both hard and slow 

And worn by bleeding feet. 

It is the law of human life 

The great shall serve the small, 

That peace is won alone through strife. 
That some must die for all. 

What though from Pisgah's topmost height 

We view the sunlit towers 
Nor enter into perfect light — 

The vision still is ours. 



With mute appeal and radiant brow 

Chastened by sacrifice, 
His spirit yearning to endow 

With life an age that dies' 

The martyred head content to bow 

In shame for liberty; — 
There stands the Christ before you now. 

Look, follow and be free! 



17 



THE MODERN ARGONAUTS 

We'll send our peerless navy out, 
All painted white and clean, 

Prepared with every kind of scout 
Whose scent for peace is keen; 

Professors, pundits of the law 

And polyglots profound. 
Bigwigs, each primed with some old saw 

That's coin the world around r 

Handshakers of the glad old school 

Who'll lend a five or ten, 
And Quakers with their Golden Rule 

And good will unto men; 

New Thoughters with their mystic ken 
And Christians — ah! too few. 

Brave Comrade with the caustic pen 
And Single Taxers too. 

We'll put to sea in men o' war 
Full-ballasted v^ith books. 

Ambrosial bubbles at the bar 
And Ganymedes for cooks. 

In quest of proud Adventure's store; 

Like Argonauts of Greece 
To search the wide, wide oceans o'er 

For golden words of peace. 

And suffragettes in pantalettes, — 

Except the surly shrews 
With faces sour as vinaigrettes, — 

Shall man the burly crews. 

Instead of duels of the sword 
In port, when we're ashore. 

We'll choose that all-compelling word 
Ne'er quite defined before: — 

"Ho! brother, greet the day with us, 
'Tis made for all to share; 

Come Briton, Frenchman, Teuton, Russ, 
Your golden hearts lay bare." 



18 



We'll joke the Japs out of their wits 
And spike the German guns, 

Smash all their cruel creeds to bits 
And frolic with the Huns. 

Broadsides of handshake we'll throw out 

While cheerily we sing, 
And everywhere our rousing shout 

Shall make the welkin ring. 

For us no bombs and Zeppelins, — 

Those big, aerial rooks, — 
We'll take a guarded world with grins 

And volleys of good looks. 

Vive! Hoch! Viva! Banzai! Hooray! 

Shall swell in tongues galore 
To hail the fast-approaching da}'- 

When tongues shall be no more ; 

When hearts shall beat with common throb, 
Attuned the whole world o'er, 

And every hand that turns the knob 
Shall find the open door. 

We've tortured long the silent earth 

To wrest the fiend of gold. 
Fierce yellow fever from our birth 

Inflames the young and old. 

Now let us dig the richest veins 

Of treasure under suns, — 
Our golden hearts that fear enchains 

Neath hatred's crushing tons. 

And rarer far than all the pelf 

The goblin Greed can hold 
The depths that hide the better self, 

More dear than worlds of gold. 

If we would win the world to peace 
The power that in us delves, — 

Faith, like the Argonauts' of Greece, 
Must conquer first ourselves. 

Great hearts can make this mortal plan 

A temple to endure; 
Our eyes shall see the God in man 

Because our hearts are pure. 

19 



PANDORA 

Thou art the very soul of all around. 

E'en as the scentless flower, plucked with the rose, 

Seems fragrant as the rose itself, within 

My heart I feel a sweet inbreathed spell. 

And yet, insooth, scarce know it to be thine. 

Thy voice is low and murmurous with echoes 

Bubbling from the deeper soul and far-hid 

In thine eyes that melt in soft beatitudes, 

There lurks a happy dream, just half-awake 

And yearning to be true. The wreath of smiles 

Around thy ruby lips adorns a tongue 

That moves in measured melody and speaks 

A heart where harmony is throned supreme. 

Like raiment of the night thy raven hair 

Doth ripple round thy graceful form and fall 

Away in silken strands, true lover's knots 

To bind my heart to thine. Amort with sport, 

Eeolian zephyrs, truant, pause and play 

Upon thee, while each leaflet whispers praise, 

Clear flutings, garnered fresh from Elfin-land. 

Thou holdest close communion with the flowers, 

As one of them, and drinkest from their breath 

Intoxicating odors faint with love. 

For thee the Sun his brazen heat abates. 

And cools his tropic ardor for thy sake. 

The startled birds, at sight of thee, forget 

To sing and all the noisy trumpetings 

Of day are stilled in solemn adoration. 

All things for thee are tempered, while they yield 

To thy pure charm an homage meet. Thou m.ov'st 

In slow procession with the twilight hours, 

Enfolded round in shadow and in calm. 

At darkening night the jealous Moon reveals 

Her silver sheen, the stars shine brighter on 

Thy path and all the trembling leaves are hushed 

In breathless awe at beauty so divine. 

Oh let me be the tender wind that dotes 
Upon thee; let mc woo thee, sweet, and coax 
The budding love from out thy luscious heart 
To full-blown splendor, now, while yet 'tis time. 
While Night still holds her m^^stic sway, for Night 
Was made for thee and thou was't made for love. 
Love's nectared chalice I have filled for thee: 
Oh! drain with me its honeyed sweets, distilled 
From earth's immortal lays, songs ever new! 



20 



Oh might I quicken thee and wake to Ufe 
That slumbering dream of thine! Could I but ope 
The portals of thy cloistered mind and take 
True lover's tribute of it's previous store! 
Then would I scale the battlements of heaven 
And win the snow-white lilies from the throne 
Of God to lay them down at thy dear feet 
As humble guerdon of my loyal love. 

One glimpse of heaven thou gavest. Rend the veil! 

Throw wide the scene to my ecstatic gaze! 

O, silver voice from golden heart, attune 

Again my ravished ear to thoughts divine! 

Oh ! leave me not my starving soul to feed 

Upon the sterile husks the swine do eat! 

Nor let my wounded heart be broken quite 

Upon the sharp and cruel wheel of Fate. 

Life's refuse heap of pain and strife, of dross, 

Of blighted hopes and vain regrets, I cast 

In sorrow- at thy feet, when lo! it buds 

And blossoms into beauty in the dust. 

Can'st thou not trust the winnowing years to clean 

Away the chaff from Hfe's full-kemeled grain? 

As some rich-toned, responsive instrument 
Wakes at the singer's voice, though all untouched, 
Methinks all virtues tremble in accord 
When now I gently breathe thy name, oh love, 
Pandora, wondrous woman of my dreams. 
Elusive, veiled, a prize for future years. 
With out-stretched arms, disconsolate, I stand 
And call and blindly grope, with pleading voice, 
And strive in vain to clasp a mortal hand. 
Thy fleeting form dissolves and straight I hear 
Thy distant footfall down the halls of time, 
While Midnight hymns a threnody for thee. 

The crystal sky anon is choked with murk. 
In fear Song flies away from p^allid lips. 
Love calls a truce, his genial conquest o'er. 
The day of wrath, that dreadful day, is come. 
When Justice rides the tempest swift to scourge 
And Revolution thunders at the gate. 



21 



HESPERIA 

From a sea-pillowed isle in the glowing west, 
Lulled like a babe on the Ocean's breast, 

She came in the lush spring-time. 

There the winds and the waves together plav, 

Or die in wonderment away, 

So soft is the hallowed clime. 

There the breeze like a bee a-gathering treats 

Flits all day long from flower to flower, 
And then, o'erladen and cloying with sweets, 

It loiters and dies in shade and bower ; 
While the rose to the night's de\^n/ baptism 

Droops answering in odorous prayer. 
And the pale airs, all swooning with passion, 

Their sorrowing loves lay bare. 
E'en the birds in the thickets yonder 

Sing carols so full and strong 
That Summer forgets how to wander 

And listens the whole year long. 
All the sounds and odors that steal on the air 

Seem wedded in one long, fervent prayer. 

And weave the wierd spell of song. 

Hesperia, gem of the western wave, 

Rooted and ribbed in the coral strand, 

With pearl-studded walls the clear waters lave 

And pine-serried banks that like sentries stand 

The brooks down the slopes of thy verberate hills 
Falter and frolic in whimsical glee. 

Or linger in sport with the murmuring rills. 
Wee, truant children of the sea. 

Ah ! she was the Queen of that fairy isle 

In the clime where the summer never dies. 
Fond Nature had lured her with every wile 

And wrapped her in magical phantasies. 
And the slumbrous flowers awoke with surprise, 

A-blush at the morning in her eyes, 
Blue heavens star-lit with dreams ; 

For the music of waves and the smiles oi the sea 
And a laugh from the breezes wild and free 

Lived in the gladness of their beams. 

Her songs lay light on the tranced air, 

Pure- voiced dreams in a cradle fair. 
Caressed by the crooning wind; 

Mellifluous strains enriching the heart. 
With healing touch for love's lingering smart, 

For thought, wan guest of the mind. 
And soft fell the tread of her sandalled feet 

As the dew on the grass, the bloom on the wheat, 
Or the balsam breath of May. 



22 



Her locks lured warmth from the setting sun, 

Their sheen from the moonbeams shyly won 
And gloss from the glow-worm's play. 

Around her were murmurs that sighed and stirred, 
Faint echoes of prayers of the cooing bird, 

Repining in mateless dole. 
And all her enchantments, her wealth of soul, 

Were limned in the sweep of an undulous whole, 
Proud beauty's imperial goal. 

She sailed away in the mellowest June, 

When the earth was singing in perfect tune 
An impassioned roundelay, 
And the choirs were joined in those parting days 
In a blended poem of passion and praise 
For the Queen on her bridal way. 

So fair was the world when that bridal morn, 
Fresh gem-bedewed and new heaven-born. 
Crept forth on prayer-bended knee. 
Fair festal raiment did earth adorn, 

Fairer the hope in m}^ heart then born 
Of a honeymoon for me. 
When the envious hours a soul-mate miss 
They stir up the jealous Fates to hiss 
Their poisonous hates and fears. 
So pure was the gleam of my bourne of bliss 

They loosened the hounds of the wind, I wiss. 
To follow with fiendish jeers. 
And they scented their pre}?- and bayed and moaned 
And they hoarsely snarled and wildly groaned, 
Oh! greedily gnashed and ground. 
Till the shivered bark went shrieking down 

To the cavemed deeps, where the mermaids gowned 
My bride and prepared her crown 
For the regal pomp of old Ocean's bed — 
Eternal troth of my dream-love — -dead. 
Arrayed in a coral gown. 
Sitting alone by the cheerless sea, 

Watching the wild birds ceaselessly 
Wheel in their, weary race; 
My heart in my breast is dead and chill. 
Like a stone I bear it forever until 
I die, and the sea is cold and still 
As a dead man's face. 



28 



A CALL TO PEACE 

This is the hour big with Fate, 

A great deed must be done. 
The holy cause we consecrate 

That peace be surely won. 

A sickened world, crazed, anarchist, 

Quaking with wild alarms ; 
A spectre bathed in bloody mist, 

Reels 'neath the shock of arms. 

Now horrid, shrunken, grinning Death 

Has blurred man's horoscope; 
Has blasted with his putrid breath 

Our frail, slow-budding hope. 

But while the shattered nations groan, 
Benumbed with pain and dread, 

And shudder as they feebly moan 
Their dirges for the dead. 

We toy with gun and battleship. 

And mumble martial fame, 
Nor heed how fickle was the slip 

Set all the world aflame. 

Faint prayers and medleys mixed with doubt 

We stammer in our fear. 
As piously we usher out 

The maimed and bleeding year. 

Oht for a Quixote to defame 

This inodern code of might! 
To put a war-worn world to shame 

Bravely, in all men's sight ! 

Then shall the swollen, crimson tide 
O'erwhelm our peaceful shore? 

Must juggernaut of war o'erride 
And plunge us deep in gore? 

At parting of the ways we stand, 

Two visions rise from far; 
Before shines clear the Promised Land, 

A ptire, eternal star. 

But from th' Inferno of the past 

Bmte passions, smould'ring, throw 

Hell flames, and while we gaze aghast 
Outbursts Vesuvian woe. 



24 



To scar and scald the patient earth, 

To rend the shaking ball, 
To blot out all of noble worth 

Beneath an ashen pall. 

Why txirn we backward toward the night. 

Or falter ere we choose? 
Our fathers faced us to the light. 

Their faith we shall not lose. 

Stand forth, young David of the West, 

Strong-hearted, unafraid, 
No sordid thought within thy breast. 

Nor yet by scorn dismayed. 

Go out to meet Goliath old, 

But not in armor clad. 
Extend the hand of friendship bold. 

Dare be Sir Galahad. 

The torch of progress fallen low 
From Europe's stricken hand 

Lift high; let it a beacon glow. 
By Freedom's altars fanned. 

Let no drum beat, no bugle blow 
To marshal murderous hosts. 

Forge no great guns in serried row 
To mask our friendly coasts. 

Above the cannon's sullen boom, 

The rattle of the guns. 
The trumpets piercing sulphurous gloom, 

The war cries of the Huns ; 

Undaunted by the noisy screeds 
That human souls v/ould blind, 

Oh ! hear the still small voice that pleads 
Goodwill to all mankind. 

Bid greed and conquering lust abate. 
The battle flags keep furled. 

Break down the barriers of hate, 
Let Peace o'erflow the world 



25 



LOVE'S MESSENGERS 

If I were the breeze of the dying day, 
And my little wings were aweary at play, 

A moment I'd rest 

On the earth's strong breast, 
Then fondle the flowers lovingly, 
And nestled in roses, pause and sigh, 

"Lullaby, lullaby, 

Little flowers, the day 

Will soon pass away." 

And while they were nodding in dreams, 
With a kiss I'd steal all the hid perfume 

The}^ give the beloved night; 
And whispering "hush"! to the playful beams 
At hide and seek in the drowsy bloom, 

As still as death 

With a parting breath, 
I'd speed through the waning light. 

I'd woo low plaints from the mateless dove 
And wed them in one new name of love ; 
And there, while murmuring leaves repeat. 
Like the spirit dream of an untouched lute, 

I'd lisp it low, 

In the golden glow, ■ 
And breathing my burden of incense out— 

— die at her feet. 

If I were the light of the dying day 

And Love were abroad in the smiling May, 

I'd bathe in the hue 

Of the ocean blue. 
And search through the depths of the lucent waves 
For the pearly sheen of his treasure caves ; 

I'd peep in the glades 

Where daylight fades; 

In the duskening vales 

Where silence trails 
Her muffled pall o'er the mossy sod. 
In the languidest nook of the Land of Nod. 

I'd catch the gleams when the leaflets dance 

In a thousand forms their wild seance. 

In a shady dell where lovers tell 

Their troth to the silent sky, 

I'd feign to sleep yet vigil keep. 

While their fond adieus I'd spy. 

I'd linger in love on her ringlets' sheen. 

Then the faintest ray that e'er was seen 

In the dainty cup of a lily queen 

I'd gather, and wed the whole 

In a silent soul 
Of glow, and glamor and gleam; 



26 



And clasping a filmy young moonbeam, 
I'd madly dance 'till in a trance 
Of witchery, wonder and dream, 
I'd trifle away the last moment of day; 
Then slyly, a wayward waif at bay — 
— I'd live in her eyes. 



THE SPHINX 



Oh! woman, great goddess of fashion, 
Diviner of kind and of kin, 
Creator — destroyer of passion 
And mother of world-old sin; 

Revealed through the masks and disguises 
Thou wear'st in thy manifold part, 
Through the wiles and the cunning surprises, 
A Sphinx, a deceiver thou art. 

For war is the breath of thy body 
Though peace is the prayer of thy heart. 
Thy tongue quite divine in entreaty 
Leaves wounds that forever will smart. 

Though we sing of those soft, cooing kisses. 
Fond mem'ries that never depart. 
Still the sting of thy soul-filling blisses 
Sinks deep as a poisonous dart. 

Like apples of Sodom e'er turning 
To ashes on fever-parched lips. 
At passion's last ling'ring inuming 
Flits the ghost of thy finger tips. 

Well versed in the role of Bacchante, 
Rehearsed in the dance and the play. 
E'en the brazenest belle of Ashantee 
Would win on her triumphal way. 

Soon said is the crude of thy seeming 
When coyly thou beatest retreat. 
Earth-bred is the m^ood of thy dreaming. 
What veins in thy vanity meet ! 

To be queen of the heart is thy portion. 
Enthroned high on majesty's seat. 
While the lords of the earth in contortion 
Are writhing in pain at thy feet. 



27 



TO THE NEW YEAR— 1916 

Thou stumbler o'er the threshold of the world, 

Bent low 'neath heaping wrongs of yester years! 

Cursed be the doddering day that gave thee birth, 

Abortive imp hatched out in murder's lair! 

Brute offspring of a nest of pregnant crimes! 

No milk of human kindness warms the life 

Within thy curdled veins, but cruel deeds 

Their likeness print upon thy sombre brow. 

Thy young head wears, in truth, a bloody crown. 

Gift of a mad, a wicked, M'-anton world. 

Mirth ill befits thy coming, hapless wight! 

Strike not the light and festive note of cheer. 

With plaintive dirge toll out a solemn hour. 

Thou hast no wand to ope for wistful eyes 

The treasures of the future's store of hope, 

No talisman to charm away the beast 

Whose bulking shape crowds out our pleading souls. 

Thou art a mere pretender on the throne, 

A poor king's jester at the court of Time. 

Think'st thou to mock away our plangent grief? 

Supreme grave digger of the ages, thou. 

Who diggest graves for m.en, for helpful beasts 

And e'en for man's ripe, mellowing hopes. 

And flaunt'st funereal crepe in God's clean heav'ns. 

No fairies hover at thy luckless birth, 

crippled ruler of a crippled realm ! 

The savage wolves have rent thy tender flocks. 

Thy pleasant fields are foul with carrion clay. 

Thy treasures wrecked by ruthless, vandal hands. 

While lamentations choke the voice of song. 

And stealthy Famine grasps the scythe of Time 

To cut thy millions down in shrivelled death. 

And think'st thou now to heal our bleeding hearts 

With one wild burst of brief, punctilious joy? 

Would'st fain believe that we our sorrow wear 

As ornament to be put on or off 

As please thy vanity and childish whim? 

Oh! would that old Oblivion of the floods 

Might wrest an interregnum from thy hands 

Till Time restore his ailing limbs to health 

And cleanse his fear-crazed brain of poison fumes. 

Then might he hold again the reins of power 

And order out of chaos form anew. 

But destiny lies in thy stained hands, 

So hobble on to quit thy doleful task 

And drag thy leaden load across the scene, 

O melancholy Hamlet of the years. 



28 



THE VERNAL TROTH 

Earth now flings out her robe of living green 

To hide the nakedness of winter's harm. 

Arrayed in vestal garb of bravest hues, 

Her choristers to blissful notes attune 

Her fruitful union with the embracing Sky. 

It is the time of increase, of new faith, 

When mounts the busy sap through bush and tree 

And blithely beats the bounding heart of man, — 

The yearly mating of the Earth and Sky. 

But tragic fate hangs o'er this vernal troth. 

All sinister the signs that haunt the scene. 

Fair Earth, fresh-nurtured from the wells of Life, 

Lift not thy maiden veil to vulgar view. 

Behold ! Thy bridal robe is crimson-stained. 

And, smirched with battle-smoke and choked with grime, 

The groom, once clear-eyed as the dawn, is blind 

To love's sweet blandishments, distraught and dumb. 

In vain thy feeble songsters swell their throats 

To quell the Babel of tumAiltuous war, — 

The vulture's croak, the clamor of the kite, 

The jackal's bark, the wolf's Satanic snarl. 

The cave-bom beasts, long pent, have scented blood, 

And seeking prey, roam through th' affrighted world, 

While Beauty flees and Wisdom palsied stands. 

For violence great Nature keeps no school; 

In quiet only does she bare her heart. 

No babbling brook, no gentle flower, can tell 

Its modest tale where bloody work is done. 

As war's malign contagion eats its way. 

The witches' cauldron, brewing vengeance, breeds 

A dread miasma round the globe. But breathe 

The poison brew. Spring's lessons will be lost 

And voiceless her deep undertones of peace. 

More kind is Winter with his piercing blast. 
When men unleash their ancient tribal hate. 
And, hurtling o'er the scorched and wasted fields, 
Sow sepulchres with red and ruthless hand. 
Sad earth ! Will Time erase the tell-tale stains ? 
Will rains be p\ire again, and suns benign? 
God fend thy teeming breasts must suckle Death 
And fertile lands crop out for aye in graves ! 



29 



EUROPE'S MESSENGER 

Rejected, repelled by the tribes of Cain 

Who deluge the earth with a noisome flood 

Of primeval brutes from the Stygian caves, 

I wing my lone way o'er the trenched fields, 

Where death careers on the poisoned blasts. 

Where, bleeding and torn in the crimson camps, 

Lie scattered the slain and battle scarred. 

I rise as the ghost of th' unnumbered dead — 

Hope, vanquished, sore-wounded, yet loth to die — 

To find me a land where the air is sweet 

And sunshine and rain will revive the heart: 

Where, tickled by teasing winds from the sea. 

The leaves laugh loud on the rollicking boughs, 

And the soothing tides with mesmeric spells 

Lisp low siren songs on the restful shores ; 

A land unpalsied by phantom fears. 

Serene mid the slaughter and weltering strife, 

A haven, a home for a broken heart, 

With a ministering hand to bind my wounds 

And a mystical voice to lull the pain. 

I pause in suspense at great Liberty's gate 

And trembling stand at the portal side, 

While, breathless, I harken the life within. 

On my startled ear falls the muffled tread 

Of the hosts that march to the drum's dread beat, 

The thunder of forges fashioning guns 

And the clatter and clash of champing steeds. 

"Have murder's foul minions betrayed my cause 

And brewed a sly mixture — revenge and lies — 

To drug with vile opiates the souls of men? 

Is no refuge found for despairing Hope, 

No hand outstretched that is willing to save?" 

In sorrow I turn from the gate away 
To scan the wide world for a beckoning hand, 
A threshold unstained by the sign of blood. 
But the mad world mutters the curse of Cain, 
In sackcloth and ashes the nations rage. 

I come, the lost Hope of the race of men. 
So long have I tarried and prayed for peace. 
Oh! let me come in to a loyal hearth 
Ere the earth grow black with tempestuous hate 
And forever shut are the gates of light. 



30 



INVOCATION TO THE NEW YEAR 

Cross not the threshold ere thou shrive thyself, 

Fair stranger from the pure empyrean, 

The earth reeks hot with bloody quarrel. The air 

Is rank and rife with stifled pestilence, 

And Desolation broods alone o'er scenes 

Where once were busy life and rural charm. 

This is thy heritage; this slaughter pen 

The realm thou must subdue to gentleness. 

How wilt thou e'er rebuild this ruined world 

Or look on human face once called divine? 

Mayhap thou bring'st from farthest source rare balm 

For our deep wounds, and comfort for our hearts 

Bowed down in sorrow's slough of needless tears. 

Mayst thou depart from fratricidal strife 

And lead in paths of peace and charity. 

Sear in our consciences the homely truths 

We utter with our lips so carelessly. 

Teach us the sacredness of human life, 

The joy of brother love to bind our hearts 

As one in cheerful service for our kind. 

Have pity for our worse than senseless fall; 

Incline our wills to shape our destiny 

Aright, ere we make havoc of all Time. 



THE TREADMILL 

Would Greed might take vacation, 
His great machine give wa}^ 
Whose every stroke and motion 
Makes my heart bleed each day; 
Tears all to shreds and tatters 
The tender, throbbing nerve 
That feeds the sense of duty, 
And numbs the hands that serve. 
No time to think you tell us, 
No time to hear within 
The still, small voice of conscience 
In all this craz}^ din? 
Then let this humdrum cease, albeit 
But one short deathless hour. 
When Life might gain true meaniag 
And Love Its rightful dower. 
Set free from fatal serfdom 
To Mammon, class and creed, 
'Twould reach its full completion 
And rule the heart indeed. 
Just one brief glimpse of Beauty 
For men whom God hath made. 
Before we drop in harness 
Like whipped out beasts of trade! 
All tasks might then be pleasures 
Despite their meager doles 
And we might get acquainted 
W^ith our own precious souls. 

31 



EASTER DISCORD— 1915 

Cease, mocking bells; strike not the shuddering air 

With tones discordant to the season's mood. 

'Twere seemlier your brazen tongues were mute, 

Cleaved to your hollow throats, and Earth were left 

Aloof to bind her broken heart, unpained 

By these rude bursts of boisterous joy. 

Like blist'ring hail on tender human hearts. 

Th' ecstatic peals descend and ope afresh 

Our bare and gaping wounds. Cease, mocking bells; 

'Tis but a dirge ye ring, a requiem 

For all the blasted hopes of withered Time. 

Lo! Yonder lie the hosts of Christian slain. 

To death-grip cheered by fierce and vengeful prayers, 

By sober blessings of the recreant priests. 

Crazed with the blood-lust of their tyrant kings. 

In Europe's pitiful Gethsemane 
No resting place is found for sacred feet. 
Stilled are the pleas of love and peaceful song. 
With brutal boast, with hate of helHsh hue. 
They have but crucified their Christ again 
And plaited for the world a crown of thorns. 



THE DYING WAR GOD 

O god of battle and of blood. 

Drink deep thy draught of gore. 
Like cataracts in raging flood 

The red libations pour. 
Mad hosts to vengeful death foredoom 

Upon the blood-drenched plain, 
Huge human hetacombs illume 

Thy dark fanatic fane. 
But hark! above the dull earth-gloam 

A world's heart-rending cry 
Shrills through the blackened, brazen dome; 

"Vile monster, thou must die!" 

From Titan throats the hot, steel rain 

Belch forth in withering blast. 
Exult while swift the lurid flame 

Licks up the storied past 
And all the treasured beauty, gained 

From countless, niggard years 
Becomes a coarse-strewn desert stained 

With futile, mocking tears. 

With fang and tooth and ravening claw, 

wreak thy mcked will. 
Dread Cyclop with the man-gorged maw 

Whose greed no grief can still. 
Though myriad tongues as one implore 

Thy murderous lust to stay. 
Thy dripping blade is whet the more 

In frenzied haste to slay. 

32 



Serene above thy savage rites 

God's splendid rainbow bends 
Its heavenly hues of hope and lights 

The scene with nobler blends. 
For, hark! above the dull earth-gloam 

A world's heart-rending cry 
Shrills through the blackened, brazen dome: 

"Vile monster, thou must die!" 



TO THE OLD YEAR —1914 

Avaunt, old year, be quickly gone. 

Thou base, dishonored guest, 

Thy hope was but a worthless pawn, 

Thy joy a crel jest. 

All fair and full of promise seemed 

Thy young life at its morn. 

The stars in lustrous beaut}- beamed 

The night when thou wert bom. 

In festal garb we welcomed thee, 

Set forth our goodly cheer. 

Joined all in seemly revelry 

Nor harbored paltry fear; 

But thou, a mad man in thy might, 

With proud and brutal boasts 

Did'st rise up grimly in the night 

And slay thy loyal hosts. 

Begone! arch traitor to the race, 

Red-handed tribe of Cain! 

Golgotha seek; in that lone place 

Do penance for the slain. 

Through ages may the ghostly dead 

Provoke unbidden tears 

'Till hover round thy guilty head 

A thousand wailing years. 



PARTING 



'Twas only the dying echo 

Of a far oflf wedding chime. 
Only a fragrant moment 

Plucked from the fleeting time; 

Only the rude awakening 

From the dream of a day divine, 
When life all aglow seemed pressing 

Like a naked soul to mine. 

Then deep in my heart I'll lay thee, 

Hope's young bud chilled with tears. 

To mingle thy sad, sweet fragrance 
With thoughts of coming years, 



33 



And when Death shall close the portals 
Of life on this mortal form, * 

On lips that are cold and silent 
That kiss shall still be warm. 

To long is the soul's to be. 

Ours the dim-visioned star, 
'Tis what in our hearts we would be 

That makes us what we are. 



APPLE MARY 



Twelve apples the store of her world estate 

And her years were eighty-five. 
She'd buffeted weather early and late 

But b\isiness didn't thrive. 
And who gives heed to the crippled or old 

In the city's hustle and rush. 
Where millions of apples are bought and sold 

And sentiment is gush ? 

So send her away to the poor house door 

That opens for friendless age. 
She'll better fare than she fared before 

On the curb in the apple trade. 
For sixty years she waited and prayed 

For the lover that never came. 
Full many a bride has since been made 

And many a maid, grand dame. 

O, Mary, your lover will come now soon. 

He waits but the trysted hour. 
He'll beg but a breath as a trifling boon 

And he'll bring you a worthy dower. 
It's the lover that comes to us all one day, 

The lover that loves us best. 
Whether our tresses are black or grey 

Or whether we've longed for rest. 

When the curtain that parts us backward rolls 

And reveals the haven secure. 
There's a welcome above for good old souls 

And a home for all the poor. 
Yes, Mary, he'll come with a fond embrace 

And succor your failing breath. 
With pitying glance at your aged face — 

For your lover's name is death. 



34 



THE SONCx OF THE BILLIONAIRE 

Old Moloch feasted on filets souled. 
His heart was forged all of brazen mould, 
His head was set with barbaric gold. 
To him the innocent babes were doled 
As men his power and worth extolled 
In Carthage great of old. 

CHORUS 

I'm a billionaire and I own the air 
And the earth and sea and the world to be. 
I grind men as grain nor reck I their pain 
As m}'' greedy pile I'm counting the while. 
Ha! Ha! My greedy pile. 

Old Moloch's tribute was mean and small, 
A sacrifice for a festival, 
But every life fears my tribute call. 
From the tables that groan in my lordly hall 
No crumb at the feet of my slaves shall fall; 
No crumb at their feet shall fall. 



Then drive them along to the mill and mine, 
Young and old in unending line. 
Break and brand till they wince and whine. 
Slave or starve is m}^ countersign. 
For I've locked the earth and the key is mine; 
And the ke}^ is mine. 



The gilt-edged stock is a saintly name. 
It's bought in the market just the same. 
When clutching the gold my claws grow lame 
I limber them up at the holy flame 
Then turn again to the grabbing game; 
To the grabbing game. 



I'm a billionaire and I own the air, 
And the earth and the sea and the world to be. 
I grind men as grain, nor reck I their pain 
As my greedy pile I'm counting the while. 
Ha! Ha! My greedy pile! 



35 



NOW ABIDETH THESE THREE" 

Love is the breath of the soul, 
The heart's first waiHng cry. 

'Tis the spirit's parting toll 
In last extremity. 

Abideth now Faith, Hope and Love, 
The godhead virtues three, 

But Love is Faith and Hope above 
Though all do well agree. 

For Faith and Hope do dwell apart 
In time and in degree, 

But Love the infinite of heart. 
Is pure eternity. 

The future and the storied past 

Ope to its magic key, 
Through Love we visualize at last 

Our immortality. 



ANACREONTIC 

Love and logic can't agree, 
Love is not philosophy, 

But a burning, 

Ever turning. 
Logic into minstrelsy. 

Love is longer 

Love is stronger 
Than the iron rule of three. 

Love is but a bee that sips 
Honey from a thousand lips, 

Ever Maying, 

Ever straying 
Where the rarest nectar drips. 

Love is feater. 

Love is fleeter 
And a purer honey dips. 

Love's a wayward dream that hides 
In the heart and there abides, 

Lightly sleeping, 

Coyly weeping 
'Till the tender heart confides. 

Never harming. 

Love's more charming 
Than all else on earth besides. 



36 



OUT OF WORK 

They walk the street with cringing feet, 

They slink from door to door, 
They brave the driving rain or sleet 

To make one effort more. 
They drag their weary limbs like lead 

The same sad tale to tell, 
When out of work is out of bread 

With only life to sell. 
At straws of chance they blindly catch 

And pore o'er "want ads" too 
In hopes a poor thin crust to snatch 

Before the landlord's through. 
Yet untold acres lie unfilled 

Despite the woeful need; 
All human hopes are unfulfilled 

While land is locked by Greed. 
With good advice we cram their heads, 

Or give a pious pill; 
Some turn to bitter, fiery "Reds," 

And some graves unknown fill. 
To Bible texts a hundred fold 

We add the loud "Amen!" 
But paving stones are not more cold 

Than texts to workless men. 
Pink charities and red tape balls 

We offer in our fear, 
Lest, like Belshazar from the walls 

Dread judgment v/e may hear; 
And mene, mene, tekel and 

Upharsin read the wise 
In letters bold, that blazoned stand 

Before our blinded eyes. 
Cursed be all God-defying power 

That work should be a boon. 
Besought, like alms, with crouch and cower, 

With flattery's wheedling croon! 
Oh! prate no more of earth-born souls 

And rights of common birth, 
We pay the landlord's swingeing tolls 

Or else get off his earth. 
Almighty God has made the earth 

For all the sons of man ; 
We grab it to create a dearth 

And honest labor ban. 
His sunshine freely shines for all 

Without respect of worth ; 
The landlords' black and bloodied pall 

Echpses Mother Earth; 
So some must work while others reap 

The profit on pay day. 
We follow like a flock of sheep 

And see no other way. 



37 



And just so long as land is land 

And man by land must live, 
He holds us in his hollow hand 

To whom we rent must give. 
In desperation see them grope, 

Too broken to rebel; 
They're out of work and out of hope 

And out of hope is — hell. 



SERENADE 



Sweetly rest, my darhng, while around thee 
Guardian angels fold their snowy wings, 
Holy Peace with loving hand shed o'er thee 
Every rosy smile of hope she brings. 
And if through the heaven of thy dreams 
Low, sweet voices, lulled to angel-strings, 
Whisper love and peace to thee alone. 
Darling, tis thy lover fondly sings; — 
Peace, love, 
Peace, love, 
Peace on thy pillow to-night. 

Flowers answer soft the night wind's wooing. 
Dearest, everything hath tongue for thee, 
And from deeps of night a slumbrous music 
Seems to whisper, "Love, sleep on, "tis he." 
Oh! how sweet to glide into thy visions 
On the gentle wings of melody. 
Sweeter, love, for thee to find, at waking, 
Heaven one long, deep blissful dream of me. 

Peace, love, 

Peace, love. 
Peace on thy pillow. Good night. 



HOMING 



Dear heart, the repose of my dreaming, 
Lie still in thy bower of bliss ; 

Love's dart, the delight of pure seeming 
I fill with a tremulous kiss. 

Oh ! life shall be ripe in its fruiting 
And rich in its creamy joys. 

And love shall be clear in its luting, 
Unmixed with all base alloys. 

The heart grown wan in its roaming, 
Kissed pale by fond lips that sing, 

To the nest of its last long homing 
Fate wafts with unerring wing. 



38 



THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY 



Come lads and bright-eyed lassies 

To the woods and fields away, 
Don't yield your hearts too early, 

For we'll dance the livelong da3^ 
Come tripping, smiling, laughing, 

Ne'er a frown shall mar our play 
There's naught to do but love 

In the merry month of May. 

II 

Now should a lad come to you, 

And seem minded there to stay, 
Don't hang your head too shyly, ' 

Blush, and turn the other way, 
But let your heart speak plainly. 

It will tell you what to say, 
There's naught to do but love 

In the Merry month of May. » 

III 

And if he speak you fondly, 

Plight his troth to you for aye. 
Ne'er wait the tongue's late answer, 

For the pretty cheek's dismay 
Can tell the simple story 

That you will not say him nay. 
There's naught to do but love 

In the merry month of May. 



THE GARDEN OF MY HEART 

Many flowers are growing in my heart for thee, 
Fraught with tender pathos, love and sympathy; 
Shrouded in the twilight, watered by warm tears 
From the soul's lone vigil through the yearning years. 
Bursting from the shadow like the stars above. 
They shall blossom only in the sunshine of thy love. 

Wilt thou give these flowers daily loving care, 
Cherish them with kindness, nurture them with prayer, 
They shall glow with beauty 'neath thy magic skill, 
With delicious fragrance all my beauty fill, 
And if thou, my darling, tend with gentlest art 
They shall bloom forever in the garden of m)^ heart. 



39 



TO "HINDA" OF MOORE'S FIRE WORSHIPPERS 

vSleep sweetly, fair maid, on thy bright pearly pillow 
Not fairer than thou who dost rest in the wave, 

May the beautiful Peris and nymphs of the billow 
Keep sacred the spot of thy watery grave. 

May the)^ twine with the sea- weed thy long flowing tresses, 
And deck thee with all the rich gems of the sea, 

Till at the soft touch of their loving caresses 
Thou wakest a child of the ocean to be. 

May the bright fairies sing, as they float by, a ditty 
Low- voiced as the sea-shells' murmurous song. 

Let this and the ocean's deep, hollow-toned pity 
Lull the sleep of thy love like eternity long. 

May the lone star of love bend over thee nightly. 
And look with its tenderest beams from the sky ; 

May the soft wind of evening its pinions fold lightly 
And pass o'er the grave of thy love with a sigh. 

And when as a nymph at the city immortal. 

Thou pleadest where Peris have sorrowed before. 

The angel who guards at the glorious portal. 
Will ope for thy love the blest heavenly door. 



NOCTURNE 



Just the hope of a seal unbroken 
And the voice of a lute unstrung, 
Just the pain of a love unspoken 
And the pang of a song unsung. 

O, Hope with its slender gleaning! 
O, Life with its empty scroll! 
O, Death with its tender meaning! 
O, Love with its martyred soul! 

But out of the dead hopes blooming — 
From the songs that were not to be — 
There breaks through' the heart's grey glooming 
An immortal melody. 

And fanned by the faithful fancies 
That fondle the old desire. 
Fresh-fed by enamoured glances, 
Love's ashes glow with fire. 



40 



SONNETS 



THE FORD PEACE SHIP 

Blessed is he who men to peace would lead 

Said He who spake anew commandments old, 

And faith e'en as a grain of mustard seed 

Increase shall yield in many thousand fold. 

Though "Peace!" the cry o'er angry seas and lands 

Distraught with violence and battle feud, 

And faint the lone cry dies, He who commands 

The destinies of life discerns the good 

In voices crying in the wilderness, 

Hope's warders in a desert waste of wrong. 

For other tongues, heart-thrilled, shall bless the deed 

Till swells the single voice to choral song, 

And jubilees of peace and brotherhood 

Shall rise from lands redeemed by brothers' blood. 



TO KEATS 

O! to recline far-sheltered in some sunny vale. 
Lulled by the soft enchanted silence to repose! 
Then could I scorn deep-furrowed care and close 
The wear}^ book of life and its unending tale 
With thee, Keats, to watch the sunbeams trail 
Their golden skirts along the cloudlets' snows. 
While bathed in fire, each ribbed cloudlet glows 
With splendor like a burnished coat of mail. 
O mighty soul, not in the cerements of rhyme 
Can th}^ great spirit be embalmed ; the power 
To live an immortality sublime 
In nature was thy portion in Death's hour. 
And thou art still unchanged, but one fair flower 
Is wrested from the coronal of Time. 



TO HESPERUS 



star of love, soft is the ray and sweet 

Thou sheddest on the glistening flowers. 

Thou only see.st sequestered bowers 

Where happy lovers oft at even meet; 

And peeping 'mid the streaming flakes of Hght, 

Thou notest with thy merry twinkling eye 

Love's secrets, whispered to the silent sky, 

And truant winds, the tell-tale messengers of night, 

O star of eve, not softer is thy ray. 

Nor purer is thy mellowest beam 

Than are my lovely lady's eyes, which seem 

To e'en dispel all longings for the day. 

Brightest of stars, I love for the hour 

Thou bringst me to my gentle lady's bower. 

41 



THE SLEEPING NUN. 

Sleeping she lies ; upon the jewelled stole 

That circles her soft breast the morning beams 

Glance sportively. A sacred halo seems 

To shrine her beauty like an aureole. 

Her eyes, the Argi of her pious soiil, 

Dream-closed by wooing sleep, in slumbrous gleams 

Bum through their curtained lids as if her dreams 

Were visions holy, great and worshipful. 

The soulful depths of dark brown eyes scarce hide 

The prisoned dew. The baby smile that plays 

Around her features seems a child beside 

Its sleeping mother. Sad, kind heart, 'tis given 

To thee to know in meek and lowly ways 

How sweet to wake on earth and sleep in heaven . 



MORN 

Soft falls the moonbeam on the quiet lake, 
The still, dark night expands her sable wings. 
I steal among the fragrant flowers to take 
A ling'ring look at sweet repose, and watch 
The blushing morn imprint her maiden kiss 
Upon the blooming cheek of youthful day. 
0! sweet that fervent kiss when youth like this 
Unfolds its charms to day, and swiftly brings 
The brightening dawn when darkness fades away. 
O golden morn! we love thy fleeting hour; 
Then crystal dew lies sparkling on each flower. 
That decks the eastern hills in brightest ray. 
Torn from the rosy-colored robe of light. 
Thou angel of the dawn, thou crown of night! 



CONCEIT 



One rose, one lovely rose I have, 

My rose, love; 
Wear it on thy breast; 

Thy rose, love. 
And thine are all the rest. 

One love, one only love I have, 

Thy love, dear, 
I wear it in my heart 

My love, dear, 
Yes, mine thou art. 



42 



JUVENILIA 



ODE TO CxREECE 



O, lyre of Poetry's bright morn ! 
Untouched, neglected, and forlorn; 
The mouldering dust of ages clings 
Around thy cold and silent strings. 
And long the guardian angels keep 
Their vigil o'er thy peaceful sleep. 
Each transient, soul-inspiring breeze 
Which springs from Lesbos' azure seas, 
Steals o'er thy slumbering strings in vain 
With sighs for glories that have been; 
The spirit that it loved so well 
Hath flown to other lands to dwell. 
O, for a soxil like that which moved 
A people with the art it loved 
And made the centuries' winged flight 
Resonant with its wondrous might. 
The lofty soul, th' exalted mind 
That found the god in human kind, 
And born of earth was chosen to be 
High-priest of heaven-born minstrelsy. 
Such could Oblivion's barriers break, 
Anew thy silence vocal make. 
Till bursting from their binding chain 
Thy sweetest echoes throbbed again. 

II 

O, Oenius! bird of lofty flight. 
Could I but catch thy wing of light 
I'd pierce the realms of nether air 
And find ideal creations there; 
I'd tear away the rolling clouds 
And clear the dewy mist that shrouds 
The splendors of Elysium fair; 
I'd roam a fearless child of air. 
Wandering beside those fearful streams 
Where poets in their wildest dreams, 
Darken the foul abyss of Hell 
With wailings and the lost one's knell. 
Then stealing Heaven's serenest ray 
By founts of youth's eternal day. 
List to- the Muses' sweetest song 
And join in blest accord the throng; 
Till, as the insect from the gloom 
Flits round the centre of its doom, 
Then dashing mid the tempting fires 
That lure it to its death, expires; 
Soul from dismantled clay should fly, 
Lost in ethereal harmony. 



43 



Ill 

But were immortal powers mine 
O, Greece! to thee I would consign 
Those powers to sing thy glorious name 
And revel in thy sunny fame. 
I'd hover o'er thy ruined walls 
With sweetly-toned lute, where falls 
No footstep of thine early pride, 
But solemn stillness, deep and wide, 
Marks but a vestige of the rich display 
That graced thee in thy better day. 
I'd w^ander through the sylvan groves 
And wake to Sappho and her loves. 
Then far Leucania's island seek, 
There on that promontory bleak, 
To gaze into the depths below 
And think on Sappho and her woe; 
To watch the purple cliffs unfold 
Their airy wings of sunset gold 
And kiss below the sleeping wave 
(As around about the waters lave) 
tFntil it smiles in dimpled glee 
Then sleeps again as peacefully. 

IV 

Once brightest of the constellations : 

Lost Pleiad in the group of nations; 

Thy star of martial fame hath set, 

But Glor}^ lingers o'er thee yet, 

As Sorrow still bewails her dead. 

Though all but nameless dust hath fled. 

Narcissus like thou'st pined away, 

Lost in thine own great majesty. 

But from thy withered bloom there springs 

A flower whose perfume on the wings 

Of dying ages wafted, fills 

The earth with scent of daffodils. 

Primeval source of endless song! 

Eternal powers to thee belong; 

Each new delight of Homer's page. 

The praise of every future age. 

Shall weave a green, undying bloom 

To wreath around thy lowly tomb. 

Though age on age its course has run, 

Thy glorious praise has just begun; 

Still by thy death thou'st lived to be 

The Polar Star of Poetry. 



FICKLE FORTUNE 

Dame Fortune is a fickle shrew, 
Of that there is no doubt. 

She gives the French the dainty gout, 
The Englishm.en the gout. 

44 



ON KEATS' BURIAL PLACE 

Greece! rise and claim thy poet's dust! 

He loved thy storied lore, and must 

The mouldering wrecks of war enclose 

That tender soul which, like the rose, 

That only blooms beneath the care 

Of Dian, loved its wrongs to share 

With her own calm and pitying Ught; 

A spirit of the gentler night"? 

The fiery sun of envious wrath 

With venom-poisoned ray hath 

Forced the flower of Genius' bloom 

To wither on that lowly tomb. 

Before Hope's dew with gentle kiss 

Had waked it to new loveliness. 

Not even Love's strong ties could save 

That spirit from its early grave. 

Fiends, devils, critics, (ye are one) 

Behold your work of ruin done! 

Earth holds enwrapt your mouldering clay, 

But cannot wipe your guilt away. 

Lo! Beauty looks with scornful eye. 

And Sorrow will not give a sigh. 

While Pity's lyre shall still prolong 

The requiem of the friend of song. 



BARCAROLLE 



Flowers and wreaths we gaily bring. 
Songs of delight we sweetly sing, 
For all the world is bright to-day. 
Glad in the merry month of May. 
Come and partake the season's joys, 
Pleasure is here that never cloys. 
Beauty and youth in every clime 
Gather fresh flowers in sweet springtime. 

Meadow to mountain sends the cheer, 
Loud ring the praises of the year, 
Mirth without measure laughs away 
Flushed by the fun of blithesome May. 
Come where the maids their locks unbind, 
Tossing like cowslips in the wind. 
Here with the dance and jocund song 
Speed we the fleeting hours along. 

Through all the sunny, happy land 
Laughter and love go hand in hand. 
Beauty's the bonny queen we own. 
Blossoms and boys bedeck her throne. 
Age and his sulky, surly train 
Far from our romps and pranks remain. 
Come and forget your cares today, 
Prithee, and do not haste away. 



45 



THE DEAREST MEMORIES 

Touch with solemn gladness 
The chords at memory's door, 
And wake the sounding echoes 
Of the things that are no more. 
The dearest of all the pictures 
That hang in memory's halls 
Is the vision of the distant mountains, 
Which sweetest thoughts recalls. 
Thoughts of such wondrous pleasure 
That I can scarcely tell 
Of the hours I've spent at leisure 
Mid the scenes I love so well. 
Now I fancy I see me riding 
O'er the surface of the lake. 
When, the evening shadows gliding, 
The sunbeams their last leave take. 
Then viewing the dewy meadows, 
Over the mountains wide, 
And chasing the phantom shadows 
By the crystal fountain's side. 
Yes, many a golden moment. 
Many a beautiful day, 
I've passed in the far off mountains. 
Dreaming the hours away. 
Yet not for its rays of sunshine. 
These happy hours of glee, 
But the thoughts of its darker shadows 
It is the dearest to me. 
I think how my mother departed 
One lovely day in May, 
And, leaving its earthly temple. 
Her spirit fiew away 
To enter the shining portals 
Where the white-robed angels trod. 
And sing the glad new chorus 
In the city of her God; 
And a smile of immortal beauty 
Lighted her features o'er. 
As if she co\ild hear faint music 
Just swell from the heavenly shore. 
And when from this vale of sorrow 
She went to her peaceful rest, 
I know that she sank serenely 
On the loving Savior's breast; 
I know that she watches o'er me 
To guide my steps aright. 
And will in death be near me 
To bear me to realms of light. 
Whenever I think of those mountains 
As my sainted mother's home 
The tears of a sweet remembrance 
To my trembling eyelids come. 
Then of all the treasured pictures 
That hang in memory's halls, 
That of the distant mountains 
The sweetest thoughts recalls. 
46 



THE BOY WANDERER'S FAREWELL TO HOME 
From the home of my childhood I sadly depart, 
All the scenes that I love fill my sorrowing heart 

While I list to the sweet village bell. 
As the last dying murmurs fall faint on my ear, 
Words my tongue cannot utter I still seem' to hear, 
Fare ye well, love and home, fare ye well. 

Nevermore shall I rest in the cot that I love, 
Where my mother, an angel, looked down from above, 

Never weep by her grave in the dell. 
The dear angel will come to watch o'er me again, 
But the cot will be empty, and I away then. 

Fare ye well, love and home, fare ye well. 



RESPITE 

When ill accords the world with me, 
And Fancy shuns wild revelry; 
When joy o'erflows in happy rhymes 
Or sorrow's darkening gloom at times 
Surrounds me with its leaden pall; 
Whene'er I seek release from all 
The heavy chains which bind the soul 
And keep it from its lofty goal, 
I'll flee to join the mystic throng. 
Where swells eternally the song 
The Muses' praise to magnify 
And bless the name of Poetry; 
Where spirits sweet commimion hold 
Their tenderest feelings to unfold, 
Their only thought in joy or pain, 
'Tis sweet to love and love again; 
Where leaps the heart in ecstacy, 
Raptured with its own melody; — 
That realm, the Fancy's strange device, 
Revealed — the Poet's Paradise. 



LULLABY FOR CHILDREN 

When little pussie bye bye goes. 

Soft on the warm rug lying. 

She only thinks, as her eyes close. 

Of naughty flies so trying; 

Sweetly purring in her dreams. 

Through fairy mouseland straying, 

But little mousie's bright eye gleams, 

Out in the pantry playing. 

When little dollie bye bye goes, 

Snug in her cradle sleeping. 

She hardly lets her blue eyes close, 

Out from dreamland peeping. 

Hush ! now ask the Father's grace. 

Still she lies attending. 

For she thinks the sweet child-face 

An angel o'er her bending. 

47 



THE WREATH OF FRIENDSHIP 

THE FIRST POEM AT 15 

In traveling o'er life's varied path 
Each one his wreath of friendship hath, 
Each plucks his blossoms on the road 
To lighten sorrow's burdening load; 
And gaily weaves the gathered flowers 
Into a wreath in leisure hours. 
Some wayside buds are wondrous fair 
And brea'the forth perfumes on the air; 
And sweetest nectar out distil, 
Which bitt'rest things with flavor fill. 
But others droop on feeble sands, 
Or bear the marks of thoughtless hands. 
So each one, gathering as he goes. 
Must take the sharp thorns with the rose, 
And, tying in his wreath, each binds 
His friendships' flowers of many kinds. 
But when thou near'st thy final rest. 
What charm to thee have roses' bloom? 
For thou, departing to the tomb. 
Must lay thy wreath upon thy breast, 
And bear thy withered leaves above 
The trophies of thy earthly love. 



ALBUM VERSES 

Thou art like the fabled blue flower. 
Like a sweet poetic mood. 

Like the heaven soft and tender. 
Like all things fair and good. 

In vain I play with similes 
And call you fairy, elf, 

I like you best, Kate, unadorned, 
You're just your own self. 



WALL STREET IN FOLK LORE 

The pioneer stock gambler, 

Long-famed in nursery-lore. 

That crooked sHck old rambler, 

Found fortune had in store 

A crooked sixpence, lying 

Upon a crooked stile. 

When, doubtful fate defying. 

He went a crooked mile. 

This "piker" crude in Wall Street 

Took profits rather small. 

But now the crooks them all beat 

With crooked tips on call. 

To crooked news they all treat 

As prices rise or fall — 

The same old crooked, small street. 

The crooked style and all. 

48 



Hymn to Liberty 

Written, and composed ))y Edwards P. IngersoU 




Spir - it of Lib - er 
Oh let thy mig^ht - y name 
Greed like a lead - en pall 



thee we a 

strength- en our 
lies , o'er the 



Help us 
Lig^ht there the 
Hate stran-gles 



ren - aer inee 
sa " cred flame 
ev» • ry ^thin^ 



for • er - er; 
thy lovfe iin 

DO ble at 



dore, _ 
hearts!, 
earth, u 




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parts; 

birth; «« 




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to thy 


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Then shall 


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soul 


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u vast 


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Strike down 


the 


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deeds they rue, 


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As thy grand work 
And spread from pole 
And thee for mer 



we do. . 
to pole, 
cy sue. 



Dear Lib - er 
Dear Lib - er 
Dear Lib- er 



tyJ 
ty! 
ty! 




Many a lowly cross for thee we'll bear, 
Many a sharp rebuff, many a care. 
WTiate'er that cross may be 
Still thy fair face we'll see 
And live alone in thee. 

Dear Libertv! 



Arfd in the holy strife brothers U save. 
Lift up the fallen one, rescue the slave. 
When thouTiast need of me 
E'en life itself shall be 
Laid down mankind to free. 
Dear Libertv! 



